


You Can Leave Your Hat On

by ignipes



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-16
Updated: 2008-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There must have been some magic in that old silk hat he found</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Leave Your Hat On

Ryan looked around to make sure nobody was watching.

It wasn't even a real snowman. They were in Las Vegas. The best Vegas at Christmas could offer was an inflatable snowman.

It was probably creepy, he thought, to be lurking around the neighborhood at night staring at an inflatable snowman. But he'd wanted to look at the Christmas lights on all the houses. He liked the multicolored ones best.

The snowman was right there—fully inflated and lit from within—and it was wearing an _amazing_ hat. It was a real top hat with a bright yellow flower on its brim.

That hat was much too cool for an inflatable snowman, Ryan thought.

Ryan looked around again. It would be really embarrassing if he got caught. But he didn't care.

Quick as a flash, he darted across the lawn to the inflatable snowman and reached for its hat. The snowman was taller than him and it was a reach, but he got the hat.

Quick as a flash, he darted away again.

He didn't put on the hat until he was two streets away. It fit perfectly.

-

Ryan wore his ill-gotten silk top hat to a Christmas party two days later.

"Ryan! Ryan Ryan Ryan Ross!"

Ryan was two hours late to the party, and Spencer was already tipsy.

Spencer stumbled against Ryan and draped one arm over his shoulders. He lowered his voice conspiratorially and said, "Hi Ryan."

Ryan smiled fondly and gave Spencer a friendly half-hug squeeze. "Hi Spencer."

"Oh, hey, look," Spencer said brightly. He hit Ryan in the nose as he pointed upward. "Mistletoe!"

Before Ryan could react, Spencer kissed him hard on the mouth.

Ryan was too stunned to move. Spencer was an extremely affectionate drunk, everybody knew that, but he'd never kissed Ryan before. Not like that.

When Spencer let go, he smiled his big, stupid smile and said, "I like your hat."

Then he let go of Ryan and wandered away, probably to molest somebody else.

Ryan touched his lips, then reached up to touch his hat. "So do I," he said quietly.

-

The party was very loud and crowded, but Ryan could hear Brendon from two rooms away. He smiled and braced himself and almost didn't spill any of his drink when Brendon launched himself onto Ryan's back and shouted, "You can't take my pickles away from me!"

"I won't," Ryan promised. Brendon became very possessive when he was drunk. Unfortunately, he tended to become possessive of things that weren't exactly his to begin with, or things that didn't exist.

"Good," Brendon said, one arm hooked around Ryan's neck. "I missed you, Ryan. Where have you been?"

"You saw me yesterday," Ryan pointed out. "You stayed at my house until three in the morning eating all of my Doritos."

"That was ages ago," Brendon declared. He nuzzled at Ryan's neck. "Much too long."

"Um," Ryan said. He patted Brendon's arm awkwardly. "Okay. Well, now—Brendon?" Ryan was a little bit embarrassed by how high and squeaky his voice went. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Brendon said, but it was difficult to understand because he was busy sucking on Ryan's neck. He made teasing little licks with his tongue and scraped his teeth over the skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to make Ryan shiver and wish Brendon's hand wasn't close to his crotch, was he doing that on _purpose_?—and mumbled, "I really like your hat. Is it new?"

"Yes," Ryan squeaked. He shoved Brendon away and took a few steps back. "Yeah. It's, um. New."

Brendon grinned, wide and sloppy. "It looks like you stole it from a snowman."

Ryan gaped. But before he could ask, Brendon was gone, charging through the party again.

-

"So," Ryan said, passing the joint back to Jon, "have you noticed Spencer and Brendon acting kind of weird lately?"

They were lying on the grass behind the house. The noise from the party was muffled, and they were alone except for the two people having sex in the lawn chair on the other side of the yard. It was a warm night for Vegas in December. There were stars twinkling overhead.

"I dunno," Jon said. "You mean, like, more than usual?"

Ryan could still feel his skin tingling from the touch of Brendon's teeth. "Um. Well. Yes?"

Jon rolled over onto his side and smiled. "Not really. Why?"

The couple in the lawn chair moaned in unison. Ryan wanted to tell them they should move it to solid ground before things got exciting, because he knew from experience that lawn chairs were not designed for that type strenuous physical activity, but he was too relaxed and lazy to bother.

"I dunno," Ryan said. "Just because."

Jon reached over and tugged on Ryan's tie. "I hate to break it to you, Ross, but they've always been weird."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I just mean..." He waved his hand illustratively. He didn't really want to explain that Spencer and Brendon had both kissed him. He was pretty sure Jon would never stop laughing.

"You mean what?" Jon said.

"Um." Ryan shifted a little. Jon was still tugging on Ryan's tie. His hand was warm and heavy on Ryan's chest. "Just, you know."

"No, Ryan," Jon said. He was suddenly a lot closer than he had been. "I don't know," he murmured. His lips tickled the curve of Ryan's ear.

"Um," Ryan said. "Jon?"

There was a squawk of alarm and a shriek of pain as the lawn chair collapsed beneath the amorous couple across the yard.

Ryan sat upright so quickly he almost choked himself before Jon let go of the tie. "Never mind," Ryan said. He scrambled to his feet and started back toward the house, tripping over his own foot as he went.

"Hey, Ryan," Jon called after him. He sounded like he was laughing.

Ryan froze.

"That's a cool hat."

Ryan ran inside.

-

Hours later, after the party was over, Ryan stood in his bathroom at home and stared at his reflection.

It really was a cool hat.

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, but try as he might he didn't look much like a private detective in an old black and white movie. That was a little disappointing.

It was just a hat, Ryan thought.

(A stolen hat, Ryan's conscience thought.)

He hung the hat on his bedpost before he went to sleep.

-

When he woke up in the morning, he had a theory.

-

To test his theory, he put on his silk top hat and went over to Spencer's house that afternoon. He let himself in with his key and found Spencer eating a sandwich in the kitchen.

"Urgh," said Spencer.

Ryan felt a little smug that he, at least, had no hangover. He waited patiently while Spencer finished chewing and swallowed his bite of sandwich. Then he stepped very close to Spencer, put his hands flat on Spencer's chest, and said, "Don't punch me if I'm wrong about this."

Spencer's eyes widened and he started to say, "If you're—"

Ryan shoved him against the counter and kissed him before he could finish.

For the first five seconds he thought it was a mistake. Spencer made a muffled noise of surprise but otherwise did not react at all. His lips were closed and their noses were smashed together and Ryan was starting to wish the floor would swallow him whole when Spencer made another noise, almost a relieved sigh, and put his hands on Ryan's shoulders.

Then his tilted his head and his lips parted and his tongue flicked out and they were _kissing_ , actually kissing, hands fisted in each others shirts and legs pressed. together. They kissed until Ryan felt light-headed and broke away, breathless.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," Spencer said. He was smiling and flushed and Ryan really wanted to run his hands through his hair.

"So, um," Ryan said.

And Spencer said, "Let's do that some more."

-

Two days later they had progressed significantly beyond making out in the kitchen, and Ryan was wondering why he and Spencer hadn't thought about doing this years ago. They could have been having sex since they were like thirteen if they'd had any sense when they were young. That was a lot of years of missed opportunities to make up for.

(To be fair, Ryan thought, he had considered it before. He had tentatively brought it up in conversation just once:

"I think I might be bisexual," he had said one day while they were jamming, just the two of them.

"Pete Wentz still isn't going to touch your dick," Spencer had replied.

He played a rimshot to punctuate his statement, and that was the end of the conversation.)

But as much as he was enjoying himself, there was still a niggling doubt in the back of Ryan's mind. So he sent a text to Brendon that said, _im cming ovr_ , put on his top hat and drove to Brendon's house. Brendon was on the sofa in his living room wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, but that was normal for Brendon.

"Come kill zombies with me," Brendon said, waving a game controller at Ryan.

"Aren't zombies already technically dead?" Ryan asked. He sat down beside Brendon much closer than the huge sofa required, but Brendon didn't seem to mind.

They killed video game zombies together for about half an hour. Ryan tried not to think about how his knee kept bumping into Brendon's and how Brendon always felt like a human heater and how awesome it was that Brendon never wore clothes if he could get away with it.

"I can't believe you've ever managed to keep a girlfriend for more than a week," Brendon said suddenly, after artfully decapitating a zombie.

Ryan stared at him. "What?"

"Is this your idea of seducing me? 'Cause I gotta say, Ross, your technique could use some work."

Ryan was dimly aware of his zombie killer being torn to pieces on the screen, but he wasn't paying attention anymore. "You mean you want to..."

Brendon set his game controller down and crawled a few inches across the sofa to straddle Ryan's hips. "Like I could resist you when you're wearing that stupid hat."

"Oh," Ryan said.

Brendon, it turned out, was a great believer in egalitarian clothing distribution: he made quick work of removing Ryan's clothes. Ryan suffered a sharp but brief pang of guilt, but he pushed it aside and concentrated instead on remembering and enacting all the fantasies he'd had about Brendon's mouth over the years.

That plan worked out really well until the door of the house slammed open and Shane shouted in a high, terrified voice, "Oh my god, Brendon! _Not in the living room again_!"

Brendon started laughing so hard he fell off the sofa, and when Ryan pulled him back up Brendon said, "Bedroom?"

Ryan could only nod.

They stumbled down the hallway together.

"Gag him if you're going to fuck him, Ross," Shane shouted from behind the safety of his own bedroom door. "He's really fucking loud."

Ryan felt himself flush red.

Brendon, still laughing, threw himself onto the bed and said, "Well? Come on."

-

Brendon was really fucking loud.

"Maybe I'll gag you next time," Ryan gasped, trailing his tongue along Brendon's chest.

Brendon laughed. Ryan had never been with anybody who laughed as much during sex as Brendon did. "Only if I get to tie you up," Brendon said.

-

Brendon also slept like the dead. Ryan slipped out early in the morning.

"I am the worst person in the entire world," Ryan said to his empty car.

His top hat was sitting on the passenger seat beside him.

"This is all your fault," Ryan said.

The hat judged him silently.

-

Jon was staying at Ryan's house, as he always did when he visited Vegas, and he didn't seem surprised when Ryan stumbled in at eight a.m. after having been away for three days.

"Yo," Jon said. "Coffee?" He held up an orange juice carton. Sometimes it took Jon a while to wake up properly in the morning.

"No," Ryan said. He went past the kitchen and into his room without stopping. He shut the door and lay down on the bed and put the top hat over his face to block out the sunlight.

He would just stay here until he died, he decided. That would be best. It wouldn't take that long. Once Spencer and Brendon talked to each other they would probably come over to kill him. He just hoped they made it quick and painless and wore bright colors to his funeral.

After a few minutes Ryan sat up, adjusted the hat on his head, and snapped a picture with his phone. He sent it to Pete with the question: _does this hat make u want 2 hv sex w/me?_

He received a reply almost immediately: _gntleman i can never have this is an unbirthday party_.

Ryan took that as a 'yes'. He was about to toss his phone aside when he got another text. This one was from Ashlee: _3some???1? :) :) :)_

Ryan sighed.

His phone beeped again. It was Joe: _dude_.

And Patrick: _nice hat_.

And: _time for a vote. sex w/ryanross y/n?<http://twitpic.com/r31xo> –a_

Sometimes Ryan wondered if Andy was trying to bring about the fall of civilization via Twitter.

He fell back onto the bed again, but his phone kept beeping with new messages.

 _sweet young thang_ , said Travis.

 _notmy type but hell do_ , said Cassadee.

 _rawr_ , said Gabe.

 _im totes not gay but id hit dat_ , said Cash.

Ryan finally turned off his phone and hid underneath his hat again. He hated everyone he knew. He also hated everyone Pete knew, and that was a lot more people.

He must've drifted off while sulking in misery, because the next thing he knew he was waking up to the sound of a soft tapping.

Ryan heard the door open and Jon ask quietly, "Hey, you okay?"

Without looking, Ryan said, "Fine."

Jon's bare feet crossed the carpet, and the mattress sunk as he sat beside Ryan. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Ryan didn't want to drag Jon into it too.

Jon responded by bumping the hat off Ryan's face, then stretching out beside him and wrapping him in an awkward sideways hug. "Don't be sad, Ryan Ross," Jon said. He rubbed a hand comfortingly over Ryan's belly. He was using the same voice he used to apologize to his cats when he ran out of canned cat food.

"I'm not sad," Ryan said. No, he thought, I'm just stupid.

"Okay," Jon said agreeably. His fingers slipped underneath Ryan's waistband.

"Uh, Jon?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Cuddling," Jon said.

"Do you, um." Ryan swallowed and tried not to jerk his hips off the bed. "Do you have to have your hand down my pants for that?"

Jon gave a little squeeze, and Ryan's breath caught. "I don't see you complaining," Jon said.

Ryan was definitely not complaining.

-

That afternoon, Ryan went for a drive in the desert to clear his head.

He needed open landscapes and empty skies and quiet, he told himself. He needed to get away from things. He needed some time to himself. He needed distance. He needed perspective.

He needed a map.

 _im lost_ , he texted to Spencer. Then he held his breath and waited. Spencer had every reason in the world to be mad at him and refuse to speak to him.

 _lol loser_ , Spencer replied.

Relieved, Ryan grinned and wrote back: _ur no hlp_

_bden sez if u get to mexico u wnt 2 far_

Ryan's relief withered. Spencer and Brendon were together. That meant they were talking. That meant they were plotting to kill him, and he couldn't even be mad at them because he totally deserved it.

His phone beeped again: _jwalk sez ask teh cobra_

Ryan considered the empty desert landscape and wondered how unpleasant it would be to die of exposure.

-

But when Ryan got home, there was nobody in the house except for Jon, who was sitting in the kitchen feeding scraps of pizza crust to Hobo.

"Hey," Jon said. "Have a good drive?" He sounded cheerful. There was nothing in his tone to indicate hidden meaning or furious betrayal.

For some reason, that just made Ryan feel worse. "It was all right," he said. He hesitated in the doorway and tried to decide whether he should join Jon at the table or not.

"Cool," Jon said.

Ryan didn't have much of an appetite. He went to his room.

After a few minutes, he realized something was missing.

His top hat was nowhere to be seen.

-

"What hat?" Jon asked, concerned. He hadn't said a word while Ryan tore the house apart looking for it.

Ryan was so upset he couldn't even answer.

-

It was stupid, Ryan realized, to think that the inflatable snowman had come back for its hat.

"But I kind of thought you would have it anyway," he said. "I saw a movie with an evil snowman in it once. But, like, a real one."

The inflatable snowman said nothing.

"I'm sorry I took your hat," Ryan said.

The snowman was smiling knowingly. Ryan wondered why he hadn't noticed that expression before.

"It's brought me nothing but misery," Ryan said.

But even as he said it, he knew he didn't mean it. He wasn't miserable because of what had happened, just because it had happened thanks to a magic hat and not any real feelings from the other guys.

And also because Ryan was a lying, cheating asshole who wanted to keep having sex with his three best friends but knew he never could again. He had probably already ruined everything. That made him miserable too.

"You're an evil snowman," Ryan said finally.

The porch light on the house switched on. Ryan jumped as the front door opened.

"Hey!" A woman in her bathrobe leaned out. She was holding a rolling pin. "What the hell are you doing, kid? Get the fuck off my lawn before I call the cops!"

Ryan turned and ran.

-

Ryan avoided everybody for the next few days. He didn't answer his phone. He ignored Jon when they were both home. He spent most of his time alone, and his friends let him.

Of course they would, he thought. They'd only wanted him because of the magical hat in the first place, and without the hat he was just the jerk who took advantage of his friends.

 _sometiems i wonder if anybdy can hear_ , he texted to Pete one day when he was feeling especially sorry for himself.

 _brb goin on great hunny hunt_ , Pete replied.

Fatherhood had only made Pete's text messages weirder.

-

About a week after Ryan lost the magical hat, he was pretending to take a nap when his bedroom door burst open and Spencer, Brendon and Jon came in.

"You," Spencer said, "are an idiot."

"You can't hide from us forever," Jon said.

"We know where you live," Brendon said.

Ryan tried to hide under his pillow, but Spencer pulled it away. "You're not allowed to freak out about this," he said.

Jon sat on the bed beside Ryan and patted his shoulder. "Well, you're _allowed_ , but you really shouldn't."

Brendon climbed onto the bed and sat on Ryan's legs. "I'm not freaking out."

Spencer glared at him. "Why would you freak out?"

"Ryan let you fuck him like three times—"

"Four," Spencer said smugly.

"But he told me I had to wait until next time," Brendon said, pouting. "Then he had a freak out and there was no next time. I don't think that's fair."

"You can fuck me instead," Jon said. He smiled sunnily at Brendon, and Brendon smiled back.

Ryan felt like he had missed something important. "But," he said. He bit his lower lip. "Aren't you guys angry?"

"Raise your hand if you're angry," Spencer said.

All three of them raised their hands.

"Oh," Spencer said. "I meant: raise you hand if you're angry at Ryan for having sex with anybody in this room."

Their hands dropped.

"Just to clarify," Jon said, holding up his index finger, "I am a little mad I only got a handjob."

"But you didn't mean it," Ryan said desperately. "None of it—it was a mistake, okay? I didn't know what would happen. It was just _there_ and I took it but I didn't know it had magical powers and it would make you do things you didn't want to but I really wanted to so I didn't stop and I shouldn't have but I'm an asshole and..."

He ran out of breath.

"Wait," Brendon said, "what are we talking about again?"

Jon looked confused. "Magical sex?"

"I dunno," Brendon said doubtfully. "You're okay, Ross, but I'm not sure I'd call it magical. You should get Spencer to teach you that thing he does with his tongue, you know, with the curling and the thing." Brendon opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out to demonstrate.

"The hat," Ryan said weakly. He tried not to stare at Brendon's lips. "The hat was magical. It made you... you know."

Jon looked at him blankly.

Brendon looked at him blankly.

Spencer started laughing. He laughed so hard he fell over on his side and buried his face in Ryan's shoulder. "I can't believe," he gasped, his shoulder shaking, "I can't _believe_ you thought—did you think it was a _magical sex hat_?"

"Like a sexy Sorting Hat?" Jon asked, intrigued.

"No," Ryan snapped. "I mean. Not really. Maybe."

Brendon was started to laugh too. "You thought the only reason we wanted you was because of a hat that looked like you'd stolen it from a snowman?"

"I did steal it from a snowman," Ryan felt obliged to point out. "An inflatable one."

Spencer was laughing so hard he sounded like he was going to sprain something.

"I don't know," Jon said thoughtfully. "Maybe he has a point."

"He really doesn't," Brendon said.

Spencer gasped for breath.

Jon shrugged, "I'm just saying, I've never kissed Ryan when he wasn't wearing that hat. Have you? Spence? I didn't think so. So maybe we should, like, test it. Just to make sure."

"I don't have the hat anymore," Ryan said sadly.

"That's because Spencer and I stole it," Brendon told him. "We were weirded out by how you refused to take it off during sex."

Ryan was weirded out by how Brendon and Spencer had apparently shared sex-with-Ryan notes at some point, possibly while having sex with each other, but he wisely decided not to ask.

"But you might be wearing magical socks," Jon said, peering skeptically at Ryan's feet. "Or a magical belt. Or a magical tie. How do we know your clothes aren't putting a spell on us right this minute?"

Some part of Ryan's mind knew there was something he was still missing in the conversation, but he had a hard time concentrating on the potential danger with Spencer lying half on top of him, Jon leaning over him, and Brendon sitting on his legs. (Brendon was also singing "I Put A Spell On You" in his best Bette Midler impression—which was, admittedly, pretty damn awesome—but that was normal for Brendon.)

"I'm pretty sure it was just the hat," Ryan said.

"But we're not sure," Brendon said. He climbed off of Ryan's legs, took one of Ryan's shoes off, and brushed his fingers over Ryan's ankle. "We have to be sure too."

Ryan had never considered his feet a particularly erogenous zone before, but he had definitely considered Brendon's hands erogenous in every imaginable way. Only Brendon would try to make the act of pulling off somebody's socks and tickling his ankles a sexy striptease, but Ryan wasn't complaining.

"This too," Spencer said. He wasn't laughing now. He was fingering Ryan's tie and staring at Ryan. "I don't trust it. Why are you wearing a tie just to mope around the house anyway?"

"Because I—" Ryan gasped as Spencer worked his fingers under the knot, his knuckles brushing over Ryan's neck. "I like it," he managed.

For a moment Ryan thought that Spencer had mysteriously acquired another hand, but it was only Jon, working open the buttons of Ryan's shirt one by one. "We like it too," Jon murmured. He pulled the tie free and leaned over to kiss the exposed skin of Ryan's collarbone.

"Hey, hey," Brendon said. One of his hands was wrapped around Ryan's ankle, the other stroking up and down his leg underneath his pants. "Somebody get his belt."

Ryan reached for his belt buckle, but Spencer slapped his hand away. "No," he said. "You might cast a snowman love spell while we're distracted." He unbuckled the belt and pulled it free, tossed it aside. He undid the button on Ryan's pants and brushed his thumb over Ryan's skin before tugging the zipper down. "I love how much you hate underwear," Spencer murmured, flicking his tongue out to lick Ryan's nipple.

"Up, up," Jon said. He helped Ryan sit up just enough to take his shirt off, then pushed Ryan back down and put a hand on his hip. "Up again," he said. Ryan leaned into Jon and lifted his hips obligingly to let Brendon tug his pants off.

Then he was completely naked and his dick was hard and aching and the soft little touches of fingertips and lips on his skin were driving him completely crazy. Ryan closed his eyes and tilted his head back against Jon's shoulder. "Please," he said. His voice sounded low and hoarse. " _Please_."

Suddenly, Jon moved away and Ryan collapsed onto the mattress. Brendon's and Spencer's hands were gone too.

"You know," Brendon said, "I think he's right."

Ryan's eyes snapped open.

They were all standing beside the bed, looking down at him.

"I don't want to have sex with him at all right now," Brendon said.

Ryan's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"Me neither," Jon said. "It's really a shame. You should've brought the hat."

"Yeah," Spencer said. "Doesn't he look funny naked?"

"I'm hungry," Brendon said.

Jon hooked his arm through Brendon's and led him out of the room. "Let's order sushi."

"I want pizza," Spencer said as he followed them.

"Guys," Ryan said. He pushed himself up on his elbows. "Guys. Hey, guys? Guys!"

No answer.

Ryan dropped back onto the bed and closed his eyes. "I hate my life," he muttered. Then, louder: "I hate all of you too!"

"You do not."

Ryan did not jump just because Spencer's voice was a lot closer than he'd expected. He hadn't heard him come back into the room. Spencer was a ninja.

"You love us."

Brendon was also a ninja.

"You're lucky we love you too." Jon was a ninja with a _tongue_ , and his ninja tongue was teasing along the inside of Ryan's thigh, his beard scratching Ryan's skin. "Don't you think you're lucky?"

"Yes," Ryan breathed. He arched his back and didn't open his eyes. "Oh, fuck, please, yes, I _know_."

-

Ryan found the silk hat under Spencer's bed a week after Christmas.

"You hid it in your sex toys box?" Ryan asked incredulously.

Spencer leaned in the doorway. He was naked.

(Brendon had been very persuasive in convincing Spencer to join him in his celebration of constant nakedness. The careful, thoughtful persuasion had happened like this:

Brendon said, "Spencer, I think you should stop wearing clothes. I mean, when we're inside. You can still wear clothes to play shows and buy groceries and stuff."

And Spencer said, "Okay."

Brendon gave a fist-pump of victory and shouted, "Score!")

"It seemed like a good place for it," Spencer said. "You're a kinky fucker, dude."

Ryan held the hat at arm's length and looked at it. The yellow flower was just as bright and cheerful as he remembered.

"No," Spencer said. "No way."

"No way what?" Jon asked. He hooked his chin on Spencer's shoulder—he had to stand on his toes to do it—and raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing," Ryan said. "Where's Brendon?"

"He said he had to go get something," Jon said. "Something about handcuffs?"

"I have handcuffs," Spencer said grumpily.

"Not the special pink fuzzy ones," Jon pointed out.

Ryan blinked. "Oh. Okay."

He put the top hat back in the box. There would be time for that later.

-


End file.
